"Come on, Michael!"

Jack laughed as he chased after his brother, the younger clutching the cricket bat as he sprinted to his mother.

"Save me, save me!" He cried, laughing as he did, then hiding behind his mother's skirts.

Sylvia thought this was the cutest thing. Sibella seemed to think so too. She was sitting with George on a bench eating some cake. (Though not a lot. She couldn't. She needed to stay trim.)

There was a cool breeze which brought their attention back to the garden. The group was in the Davies' backyard, playing a game of chase.

"Can we play pirates?" Michael asked of his mother and Monty, who was standing with them.

With a strange smile, Monty leaned down and picked Michael up and held him up to his chest. "I'm the most dastardly pirate ever! And I've captured this traitor as my hostage!" He laughed gleefully and took over their porch as his ship.

"Help! Help!" Michael said in a mix of mock crying for help and a fit of giggling.

"We must save him!" Jack yelled to his brothers.

Phoebe picked up a stick with a few leaves on the other end. "Release the boy!" she shouted, causing Sibella to chuckle slightly.

Peter was not amused. (He was reading and didn't want to play.)

"It's all nonsense," he muttered quietly and returned to his book.

Too bad Sibella overheard. "Peter?" she called his name quietly. "Are you alright."

"Fine." (He wasn't fine. He was actually the opposite of fine.)

Everyone could sense the tension Peter was giving off. His mother returned to his side on the other bench and wrapped her arms around him.

Phoebe dropped the stick and Monty put Michael down quietly. He had stopped struggling.

Even if Sibella, Monty, and Phoebe weren't confused about the situation, they still didn't know what to do. Phoebe had already told Sibella and Monty about Arthur Llewelyn Davies. He died of sarcoma in his cheek. Both Monty and Phoebe knew what it was like to lose a parent, and they tried to avoid the topics of death and parents (unless it was Sylvia) when in the Davies' presence.

"You know, Peter," Monty began, cheerful in his tone, "we still have cake left."

He didn't seem interested.

"Do you like that book?"

Peter looked up. "It's a play."

"A play?"

"Yes."

Sylvia smiled. I've taken these fine boys to plays a few times in the area. Peter simply had to know more.

"I see." Monty was beaming. Plays. He loved plays.

"Do you want to see a play?"

The young boy didn't know what to say. "Yes?"

"Yes! Good. Phoebe, let's go see a play!"

The brunette clapped her hands excitedly. "A play! Monty that's fantastic!"

"We'll set something up soon," Monty promised, turning back. "How about tomorrow we can relax in Kensington Gardens and you can tell me all about that play, yes Peter?"

Peter nodded slowly. "Yes, Mr Navarro."

"Monty." He said.

"Monty." He said back.